


Finesse

by Bubblesyoh



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Badass Alex Manes, Banter, Dorks in Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblesyoh/pseuds/Bubblesyoh
Summary: "Took you long enough," Michael says, pulling the knife out of a man's throat and blood spews from the wound."I knew you had it under control," Alex responds with false dismiss, his eyes scanning Michael with despair.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Finesse

  
1.

No matter how many times Michael has seen it, Alex Manes in a tux was a sight. The dark blazer hugs his shoulders and arms just the right way, Michael's eyes follow the flex and dip of every muscle thinking how amazing the suit would look on the floor later that night. There was just something so alluring when Alex suit up, somehow it complimented him, enhancing his sharp features to something almost God-like. 

"Michael?" 

"Uh," Michael said, eloquently. "Yeah. The shirt looks good."

"Sure," Alex replies, adjusting his tie, sounding like he was having fun. Sometimes Michael was glad for their line of work, being a spy was always more fun when you had Alex in a suit to ogle at. 

"You clean up nicely," Michael told him, waiting for Alex to do his tie correctly before leaning him against the door, eyeing him up and down, dragging their lips together, hot and wet. 

Alex moans, a barely-there sound in the back of his throat, and breaks the kiss, "Your turn to dress up."

.

Michael used to be terrible at blending in, especially in charity events. All the people chatting and mingling, canapes and crystal flutes clinking, used to make Michael itch, it was oppressing, he felt like he didn't belong. Then one day, Alex came along and Michael could finally breathe in easier and play his part. He nips on the miniature sandwich as he walks to Alex, who is in the middle of some conversation. Alex is gorgeous when standing tall and proud of himself, the way his eyes lit up when he smiles at Michael is ethereal. _God damn it, those cheekbones_.

Michael goes easily when Alex crooks his fingers, ordering him closer. He flinches slightly when Alex pushes him closer, as he whispers a _Michael_ to his ear, the warm air escaping his lips and tickling the sensitive skin of Michael's neck. Half of it was Alex putting on a show, after all, they were here as a job, but the rest was _definitely_ Alex teasing him, and if there was one thing Michael loved, was to play games.

Michael, casually, gropes Alex's butt, perfectly round by the amazing pants he was wearing, Michael is fighting such a voracious battle that he has to bite his lip when he whispers back; "Saving the best for last."

While they know it is not correct, and if any of the other members of the crew would find them making out like horny teenagers in a tiny bathroom the teasing would be nonstop, well, that is how they end up. It's cramped and the stall barely has enough room for them both in it, but it's not like either of them mind as they're pressed as close against one another as possible anyway.

"What am I going to do with you, Michael." Alex groans, but there's a distinctive trace of amusement dancing in his voice. 

Michael doesn't answer, instead, he shushes Alex with a warning glare, reminding him they have to be careful and kisses him. He holds onto Alex to dear life, drinking of the muffled moans and all the other noises that Alex is trying to get out. By the time they let go of each other, Alex looks wrecked, hair disheveled, eyes dark and an undone tie hanging around his neck precariously. Michael thinks he looks delicious.

2.

They had an entire day just for the two of them today, and they were trying to make the best of it. Sometimes Alex felt silly, _to bring Michael on a coffee date_ , such a mundane thing to do. The discrepancy between their jobs and their private lives was a laughable thing. That was Alex's mistake, to think they had a private life. Because when Michael took too much time in the bathroom, Alex did not think much of it, and when more time passed and Michael did not appear, eventually it clicked, but by then Michael was long gone.

Usually, Alex is good at following the rules they have, even if they are self-employed, it is a risky business. But love is a fickle thing that is uncertain and Alex had walked into it with eyes wide open and still managed to let it bite it in the ass. He is angry, at them for taking Michael, and at himself for letting this happen. Isobel is not pleased with him, Kyle has no right to judge him, and Max is a hypocrite.

The enemy does not want money, no, they want information. Information that if ever comes to light, it will create a war of proportions never seen before. Everyone is breathing down his neck, demanding that he fix the situation, as if it would be easy to trade the information they have for Michael. He entertains doing it for a few minutes, to do it and let everyone else deal with the fallout, but what would become of them then? Spent the rest of their lives running, to never feel safe, and be constantly looking over their shoulders?

This is not the first time they had trouble with an enemy agency, but it is the first time that it escalated to such a shit show. They received a small video recording of Michael, and Alex is trying to track it down. The only reassurance Alex has is that Michael can fend for himself, on another hand Michael also likes to antagonize and taunt. The only lead they have is a five-second clip of Michael smirking at the camera with a split lip, blood trailing down his chin, and tainting his shirt red. 

The next day, Kyle and Liz come and take over, allowing Alex a few hours of restless sleep where the sound of Michael's labored breathing echoes in his ears, accompanied by that damn smirk. He finally sleeps a few hours, holding onto the thought they will not kill Michael if they want information. He dreams of Michael's warm and pleasant laugh echoing in his ears.

3.

Michael woke up to the cold concrete, digging into his face, his head was pounding, mouth dry. For a long moment, he fought to understand what was happening, but somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a sense of urgency. It was hard to think, his mind heavy and slow, it was a struggle to open his eyes and once he finally succeeded, he had to blink for long minutes for his eyes to get used to the bright light.

There were no windows, just a small cement cell with nothing on it, not even a mattress. There are no visible hinges on the door, there is no vent in the ceiling, only the neon-bright light. The door opens outwards, no amount of pushing on the door gave results, not even a smudge. Michael eventually gives up and sits against the wall, legs crossed. He felt strangely raw, overwhelmed by the slightest sensation.

"I see you are awake," a voice said echoes around the room. It was a dark voice, one which stirred a memory. If only he could push through the grogginess. Drugs. The realization did not bring the sudden alarm it should have caused, even though there was still an insistent sense of urgency at the back of his mind. 

"What do you want?" Michael asks, his mind is a swirl of racing thoughts and only one of them comes through loud and clear. 

Danger.

Before he can react, there are cold hands on his wrists squeezing, pulling him up roughly. His stomach churns, the nausea was so strong that Michael thinks he will vomit. Time passes, whether it's seconds or hours, there's no way to be certain, every muscle in his body ached, his heart is beating inhumanly fast, he's gasping for air. 

One of his wrists is already broken when they strap him down to the table, even if Michael doesn't remember fighting back and things only go downhill from there. They ask him things he has no intention of answering, and he tells them so, _cheerfully_. 

He laughs then, when he is finally coming to himself, no longer lost in the haze of uncertainty.

"Jesse Manes."

  
4.

Michael is not here, but he lingers in Alex's apartment. There are so many little things that remind Alex of him, a pair of forgotten shoes by the door, a stupid shirt over the sofa, on the coffee table a couple of science magazines, those terrible personalized mugs with puns, _I love you s'more_ is currently drying on the rack.

He and Michael had a long story, not always the easiest, but if there was someone Alex would trust with anything, Michael was that person and part of him is angry at his stupid partner that let himself being captured. The other part is angry at himself for letting their relationship became entangled with their line of work. It had been such a selfish decision, but at the same time, it had been for their happiness. How could not Alex thought this was a possibility, his father after all was a rancorous man.

Angrily wiping the tears from his burning eyes, Alex takes the gun and inspects it, dissembles and reassembles, familiarizing himself with the weight of it in his hand. Or maybe he was just anxious and needed something to do with his hands. That was most likely the reason even if he wants to deny it.

"You're not reporting?" Kyle asks, looking over Alex's shoulder at Alex's work, trying to decipher how he had found out where Michael was. Earlier today they had received another email, this time there was a photo of Michael attached to it. He was bloody and smiling once again for the camera, mocking his kidnappers. Alex wanted him right next to him. 

Alex does not answer right away, instead, he loads the gun. "This is personal. You know what they do to people in those places."

"Alex, it is also a trap and you know it."

"This is personal, Kyle," He repeats once more. Everyone needs to understand that this is Jesse Manes and nothing else. It's an evil and disgusting plot to try and destroy Alex. "My father is busy doing whatever the fuck he does, and we are here losing time arguing."

"You can't go alone. It's dangerous." Kyle places a hand on his arm to stop him. "I want you to stop and think for a moment. There are safer ways to get Michael back, dive headfirst into this is not one of those."

Alex's glares and Kyle glares back, not relenting. But Alex does not want to understand, he lifts his chin in defiance, face impassive and cold. Alex just wants Michael back, _Alex wants him back right this instant_. Kyle lets go of his arm and stares right back at Alex, making his choice known.

  
5.

"You talk too much," were the words out of the man's mouth as he shoved him back in the cell, Michael had to choke a laugh at them. That felt like it was a month ago. 

Michael doesn't know how long he's been locked in the small windowless room. There's nothing to pass the time but his thoughts and the occasional meal and cup of water that comes through a slat at the door. His arm aches something fierce, a sharp pain that comes from his fingers all up to his elbow and travels to his shoulder whenever he tries to move the injured limb. 

There's been no more demands, no more questions, only the occasional beating. There's no reason for more, Jesse Manes clarified that Michael was part of his crazy scheme to lure Alex. Michael can feel things changing. But what more can he do if not sit on the ground, hours upon hours, the cell constantly illuminated by the light bulb, thinking about how he misses Alex, wishing for him to come, but also for him to stay away and save himself. 

He wonders if they miss him, his team, _his family_ , just as much as he misses them. He considers what they think of him for getting caught in such an ordinary way. _Michael was drugged in a coffee shop bathroom, what a joke_. But most of all he thinks about Alex, his mind always goes back to him no matter what, and that is most likely the only thing keeping him sane, that and the wait for the right moment to attack.

  
6.

"I had a plan!" Max suddenly shouted, "I had a plan, okay? I was going to get him back!"

Alex bounced his feet on the floor, showing that this explanation wasn't satisfactory. He looks at Kyle because Alex could do this alone, he could also tolerate Kyle's help, but now Max? No.

Max continued anyway, "We need something from them too, the information they have, we need it, Alex. Then I would get Michael out, all right?"

Alex looks at him, not faltering. "I don't give a damn about your plans to get him out once you had gotten something in return. We are getting him out of there now or I will knock that pretentious smile out of your fucking face with my fists."

"Due to the situation, we know that it will be dangerous and if we want to get close enough, we may have to do things that we may not agree with it." Kyle turns to Max and gives him a warning look, Max ignores it.

"Ok, we will head out first thing in the morning." Worry was clear on Max's features, but it was not enough for Alex.

"You do know that Michael is in a research facility, right? We are heading out right now. I will do this and Michael will be safe and sound right here next to me where he belongs." Alex snarls in incredulity. Just the thought of Michael spending another minute in that place was enough to make him nauseous. 

They don't understand who Jesse Manes is. No one, besides Alex and Michael, had seen what Jesse Manes is capable of, and if Max had the smallest idea, Alex was sure we would not want to wait until the morning.

.

  
There it stood the building, so imposing it appears never-ending, from the street it looks like nothing. For Alex, though, it looks empty. There was not a living soul guarding the double doors, no security around the perimeter. The stillness of it all sent shivers running down his spine. It had been too easy to follow the trail of the video and the photo they had sent to Alex. It was almost like they wanted him to find Michael, but if this place was empty, then why had his father run away and left Michael behind?

From the outside, the place seemed to be ok, but when Alex reaches the door, he can hear a faint alarm in the distance. Boots crunching on the gravel floor, Alex braces himself and shoulders straight through the outside door, smashing his way into the building, because _fuck finesse_. The inside of it was a complete mess, it was as if they knew he was coming and evacuated the place, the distressed wailing of the alarm much more present now. Kyle reaches a hand to a closed-door next to him and it opens without preamble. No security, no lock, nothing. 

Alex memorized the blueprints, so he knows that the compound was akin to a maze, rooms, and floors joined by corridors with a polished linoleum floor and white sterile walls, giving the place the impression of a strange cross between a hospital and an asylum. He's immediately on the move, heading in the direction he needs to be going to try to find Michael, letting the information collecting to Kyle. 

He runs the length of a lab, there are several pieces of equipment inside, what was once stainless steel and fancy furniture is now broken and in pieces, the leftovers of a hasty retreat. He jumps over the smashed glass and past a couple of bodies of what he assumes must be the technicians. The closer he gets to where he thinks Michael is, the most signs of a fight he catches. 

Alex races through a bare cement corridor and kicks through the door he comes across, the lock snapping easily. He immediately comes face to face with three armed guards, they're so shocked by his abrupt entrance that they don't even have time to straighten up before Alex kills the first one, a clean shot to the head. He tries not to ponder on the horrible satisfaction he feels as the body falls to the ground. The next two charges at him, enraged and screaming. Alex ducks from the oncoming fist, smashes one of the man's head against a metal table, aims his gun, and pulls out the trigger at the other. 

  
7.

When needed, Michael had the patience of a saint, he knew an opening would present itself, it was human nature to commit mistakes. Michael was trained to persevere and endure. The agent guarding him has become used to Michael's lack of fight, so when he opens the door one fine day, Michael is ready. 

In three steps Michael is close enough to grab the man's wrist, using his arm to shove the others gun away. Still, the agent fires, the bullet nicks Michael's cheek, leaving his ears ringing, along with a trail of hot blood. The agent's eyes flare with rage, face in a snarl, eyes locked on his guns that fall to the ground with a thud. With a quick jerk, Michael lashed out, curling his fingers into a fist and hitting him to the side of his head twice, jabbing him in the nose with his palm, and he falls to the ground unconscious.

  
Another guard joins the fight then, he feints with his left fist and follows with a leg sweep. Michael expects the blow and jumps over his foot, hitting the agent with a knee in his side. The force behind the blow sends him stumbling back a few steps, but not before Michael had grabbed one of the knives strapped to the other's thigh and throws it straight into the man's eye. That is when a high-pitched wail starts from a nearby speaker, someone had pulled the alarms.

And that is how Alex finds him approximately one hour later, in the middle of some weird-ass laboratory, _there was even a shower for chemical decontamination_ , with half a dozen bodies as company.

"Took you long enough," Michael says, pulling the knife out of a man's throat and blood spews from the wound.

"I knew you had it under control," Alex responds with false dismiss, his eyes scanning Michael with despair. And damn it all, because here is Alex, in one of his black suit without a single wrinkle, despite the chaos all around him. For a moment Michael stays put where he is, trying to understand the absurdity of it all. The man Michael loves just invaded an enemy agency and for Alex, it seems it is just another Sunday.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked, making his way to Michael. 

"A few bruises, a minor fracture in my wrist, not much," he smiled grimly. "They don't take too kindly to backtalk."

They are face to face now, noses almost touching, when Alex spins Michael around and herds him towards the exit, as a bullet ricochets off the wall and plows into the cement him with a loud crack, sending tiny fragments of brick flying.

"Amateurs," he says, and Michael lets out a scoff, just as the next bullet embeds itself right above his head. "Better," Alex said with a small nod of approval. Michael sees Alex counting every bullet, waiting for the time the enemy will need to reload and shots two times. He was rewarded by a yell and fires twice more before signaling Michael to follow him.

They weave their way through the blood-soaked floor, Alex practically hauls Michael along the corridors and back into the main floor. If Michael was alone, it would take him a few to find the exit. When they burst through the doors Michael frowns at the sunlight, so different from the artificial light that had kept him company during his _vacation_ , but he also feels like he can finally breathe again.

Max bursts out of the van that's parked across the road, a thunderous expression marring his face. "Would it kill you to listen to me for once in your life?"

"It might," Alex says, uncaring. 

"Max," Michael greets.

Suddenly Max seems to remember where they were, mouth gaping open before he nods and gives Michael a quick hug. "Michael, are you okay? Is he okay?" Max asks all over the place.

"No," Michael answers.

"He's fine, some bruises but fine," Alex cuts Michael off with a look that says, _what are you doing, he will hover like a mother hen and we want peace and quiet_. "Kyle's done?"

"Yes, he's waiting in the car, the place is rigged to blow."

Michael finds himself zoning out from the rest conversation, half-listening as his mind wanders elsewhere, _home_. Home with Alex, both of them cuddling in front of the TV, buried under blankets, resting against fluffy pillows and a cup of hot chocolate. Michael was never one to be afraid of death, but the possibility of him never being with Alex again makes his heartbeat erratically in his chest. 

Delicate fingers touch his cheek and Michael flinches away, pressing his eyes together, bracing for pain, but —

"Come home with me," Alex murmurs softly, voice so full of love and tenderness that Michael would do anything he asked of him.

Michael opens his mouth and closes it seconds afterward, repeats the action various times, and suddenly he is so exhausted that his legs stop supporting him. Alex immediately reaches to steady him, slipping an arm under his shoulder and hauling him to his side, and Michael takes advantage of the position, rests his head on Alex's shoulder, and closes his eyes, _just for a few seconds_.

Later on, Michael opens his eyes to the sound of a distant boom and what it seems the roar of flames. He doesn't care about it though, the only thing that matters now is the warmth of Alex's arms around him and the soft humming of words he is whispering against Michael's ears.

**Author's Note:**

> I had such a blast writing this!


End file.
